Where you should have been
by Plume Sombre
Summary: The problem is that Kindaichi knows that everything remained the same, yet it's different. He keeps coming at this park. / KinKage, character death.


**Rating: **K+, character death

**Summary:** The problem is that Kindaichi knows that everything remained the same, yet it's different. He keeps coming at this park.

**Disclaimer: **The characters belong to Furudate Haruichi.

Hello!

Seems like I perpetuate my tradition of posting my first fic in a fandom in the angst category orz I'm angst trash and otp trash so yeah

KinKage is so fucking important why isn't there more ;w;

Anyway. Enjoy!

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><p><span><strong>One-shot:<strong> Where you should have been

Kindaichi lazily blinks when the first drops of rain hit him in the face. He doesn't feel like moving; lying on the bench of the park, with people slowly scattering around, he feels at ease. He looks at the sky and notices the faint shades of gray that quietly replace the bright blue of the afternoon. He doesn't know what time it is, nor does he _want_ to know. He just wants to stay there a bit longer.

But soon his face and his clothes are wet and even his hair starts to flatten, erasing his trademark 'turnip head' that everyone has come to describe him with. He softly sighs and covers his eyes with his arm, not caring about the cold that shakes his whole body.

He remembers the hours he spent in this park, practicing spikes. He lost count of the number of volleyballs he sent in the trees, some of them gone forever. Even on rainy days like today, he has practiced. He has practiced because he could meet the setter and together they could improve their skills and make new moves.

The rain is pouring now, so he has no other choice but to get up and leave the bench. However he doesn't feel like going home; he doesn't want to bother a friend of his who is living nearby, who he settles on sheltering himself under a store's awning next to the underground station.

Their meeting point. This underground station that is located between their houses, so convenient for both of them; the bright red panel is still glowing with the word 'metro'—it must be pretty late then, maybe around seven or eight pm—and the lamppost is flickering a yellow light, giving away its age. Really, nothing has changed. Everything is still the same even months after. Kindaichi wonders if this spot, this station, is taunting him as if they were saying 'everything remains the same, but it's different now'. He wants to yell a big _'fuck you'_ at their faces.

But they don't have faces and the only face he sees right now is Kunimi's who managed to find him even in this weather and damn, he knows him too well.

"I was wondering where you were, since your mum said you left your house," he says. "Why are you here?"

"Why are _you_?" Kindaichi retorts coldly.

Kunimi rolls his eyes and closes his umbrella to stand next to Kindaichi under the awning.

"I'm just making sure you're not doing anything stupid or reckless," Kunimi offers with a sigh. "I know how impulsive you can get and honestly, I don't need a best friend at the hospital."

"Shut up," Kindaichi mutters. "I'm not _that_ stupid."

Kindaichi doesn't look at Kunimi's face but he knows that his friend is saying _'yes you are'_, and he doesn't need to comment on that. His gaze is fixated on the red signboard. How many times did he see this signboard accompanying the boy who always waited him at this spot? How many times did they part under this same signboard? It was a safe place. If they had stayed by this panel and its lamppost, nothing could have harmed them and everything would still be the way they were before.

Kunimi shifts but Kindaichi doesn't care. The glowing red in the rain keeps him fascinated, and the red he sees isn't only the signboard's.

"You're becoming a vegetable, Kindaichi," Kunimi scowls. "It's been a year."

That makes Kindaichi snap out of his thoughts and he looks at Kunimi like he grew two heads. Then a hint of emptiness passes in his eyes and stares at the panel again.

"A year? I thought it's only been a few months. Time passes fast, I guess."

"You're the one who lost track of time. You keep coming here now and then, and you refuse to talk to us."

"I'm talking to you right now."

"That's not what I mean and you know it. Why do you do this to yourself? Why do you come to the place where you hold the more memories?"

"I can still sense his presence here."

Kunimi frowns but he doesn't reply. For a year he has witnessed the slow degradation of Kindaichi's state, though he did nothing to prevent that. He didn't know how to comfort him, or even act around him. One single event in their lives messed them up. Kunimi wasn't the one who was the most affected of course, this is why he couldn't stand his best friend's mournful face and devoid of any genuine feeling.

"Look Kindaichi, I know it's hard. It's hard for everyone who knew him. See Hinata? He was a living corpse the first months. Now he tries to move on and to live his life without him, even if it's hard. I know it was different for you, but try. At least try to move forward."

Kunimi knows what buttons to push, even though he's being harsh. He needs to knock some sense into this thick skull, and he isn't disappointed by the fury buried in Kindaichi's eyes when he turns his head to glare at him.

"Trying?" Kindaichi snorts. "You think I didn't _try_? What can I do when everything I look at, everything I have, everything I think about remind of him? How can I live with his memory haunting me?!"

"The dead can't be forgotten!" Kunimi shouts back. "Kageyama is dead. Kageyama is dead and you need to accept it. I know you didn't."

"_Of course I didn't!_"

Kindaichi's scream rings in the air. That desperate cry makes Kunimi flinch as he sees Kindaichi clenching his fists, before darting into the rain.

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><p>They spent the last two years of high school making up and trying to understand each other. They did that through volleyball, since the sole language Kageyama understands is volleyball. It's funny because one day he just decided to toss to him, and Kindaichi just had to spike. Like normal practice. At first Kindaichi didn't see where this was going, but as the days went on and as he kept missing the toss, he understood that not being able to match each other's power now was going to ruin their relationship forever.<p>

"Your toss is too reckless."

"You don't jump high enough."

"You have to match my speed!"

"You should be faster then!"

The first days were a repetition of middle school. Even when they knew what was wrong, they couldn't help yelling and throwing insults to make their point. Kindaichi thought it was leading to nowhere and wanted to stop their meetings, but Kageyama seemed to have matured a lot since he was the one who settled the issue.

"Look, our problem remains the same even when we know why. I… know that now, I should be able to match my tosses to each spiker. Individually. Because each spiker is different. So… let me… try being your setter?"

It left Kindaichi dumbstruck for days before he could give a proper answer to that—Kunimi made fun of him and didn't miss an occasion to point out the awkward relationship they were going to have.

What probably surprised Kindaichi the most was Kageyama's smile. It didn't appear overnight of course; at first it was a tight smile that looked forced, and it annoyed Kindaichi to no end—_'no need to force yourself if you don't feel like it'_. But with this tight smile, he was rewarded with a _'you improved'_, _'that's better'_, _'nice spike'_, and it actually made him happy. Happy because since the first year of middle school, he's never heard Kageyama talking to him in this manner, and he couldn't ignore that warmth invading his whole body. So in return, he smiled as well. Kageyama often spluttered after then.

Their meeting point became the underground station because it was easy to locate and the park was nearby. Kindaichi would always see Kageyama cross the road to join him, and then they would head to the park and play as long as they could—they met every Sunday and sometimes in the week when they had spare time. It was actually fun to spike Kageyama's tosses once he understood how and when he had to jump, with what strength.

In the end, they smiled at each other and their 'nice spike!' and 'nice toss!' kept blending in the air.

They practiced most of the time but they also spent time together like any other friends. When it was too late in the evening they would eat in a convenient store or in a fast food.

"Hinata's been bugging me to tell you that he challenges you to a spike contest," Kageyama mutters one day.

"Huh? Spike contest?"

"Something like 'who's the one who can spike the most tosses'. He's just dumb."

"I won't mind, it can be fun."

Kageyama shrugs and continues to eat his noodles. Kindaichi feels like he can't be beaten by Hinata, even though he's been practicing with Kageyama for less than him.

He just has this feeling.

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><p>Kindaichi stays in bed the next morning, ignoring his mother's worried calls. This is just routine now; people try to get him out of his room, to make him go out in the fresh air, to spend time doing something he likes, but he doesn't care about all that and decides to head to the park at the same time as before. It's always around five pm when he leaves his house, barely touching the food his mother prepared for him—he usually finishes it when he comes back—, and stays for hours in the park. Again, and again, and again, he doesn't change this pace of life and he almost gets used to it. His parents don't even ask him anymore where he's gone to when he comes back at nine o'clock, looking even less refreshed than the day before. One day, on a whim, he decided to look around the park, just in case. Maybe he would be able to find the lost volleyballs they stuck in branches, and collect them. It kept him occupied for three days before he grew bored—he found only one volleyball.<p>

Kunimi hasn't tried contacting him and it has been a week. Kindaichi doesn't care, and he's actually relieved that no one is bothering him. People should let the others do whatever they want, and not stick their noses into their business. He still goes to the park and practices by himself, throwing the ball in the wall and spiking as if it was a toss, and of course he doesn't feel the same joy whenever the ball comes back to him. It feels so wrong.

And then, he sees the ball snatched mid-air and he only stares at the flash of orange that lands on the ground, gripping firmly onto the ball.

Hinata Shouyou.

"Hey turnip head," Hinata greets with a small smile. "Spiking by yourself? Want me to toss to you?"

Kindaichi swallows and his eyes narrow, not sure how this meeting should go. Hinata seems to have noticed the thick tension because he grins and toss the ball, before spiking it against the wall. The ball flies up, and when Kindaichi follows its path with his eyes, an awfully familiar situation comes back to his mind. Slowly, but steadily, he pushes on his legs and the palm of his hand strikes the ball. The squeaky sound it makes is still the same as ever, and even the thud remains the same when Hinata receives the ball.

It smacks Kindaichi straight in the face.

"Oh crap—Turnip head, are you alright?!" Hinata sounds panicked.

Kindaichi groans and rubs his forehead, sensing his face getting warm because of the blow, and he doesn't know if he should try to strangle the shrimp or not. He surely looks even worse than usual.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why it flew like that! Do you want me to fetch water? Or at least something cold—"

"Calm down I'm fine," Kindaichi grunts. "I thought your receives became better, or is it only on court?"

"Err I'm still not an expert like Daichi-san…"

"Yeah, of course."

Hinata scratches his nose and goes to pick up the ball. He hands it to Kindaichi, who holds it and stares at Hinata.

"What are you doing here?" Kindaichi feels like this conversation has already occurred.

Hinata looks away and fumbles with his hands, nervousness settling in him. Kindaichi knows what it means, having met this guy enough times to decipher some of his quirks. He tightens his grip on the ball and he doesn't hide the scowl in his voice.

"Is it Kunimi who sent you here?"

"No!" Hinata denies vehemently. "Well, he did speak to me but I came here on my own accord! I just thought that it'd be nice to talk to you or something. Heard that you weren't very sociable these past few months."

"Do you blame me?"

It's Hinata's time to narrow his eyes, and the very few times the short boy expresses some sort of irritation or anger is an indication of how much he's pissed off right now—even Kindaichi can tell.

"I can't blame you for grieving," Hinata says. "I'm blaming you for brooding without doing anything, or without talking to anyone."

"You're fucking talking like Kunimi," Kindaichi snaps.

"I have every right to do so! I remind you that Kageyama was my best friend! It's not because he began to meet you more often that we stopped being friends!"

"Well you seem perfectly well without him around," Kindaichi hisses.

Hinata grabs Kindaichi's collar and glares at him, eyes burning with fury and madness.

"_I_ took time to try accepting his death! _I_ talked to my friends about it! _I_ didn't close myself from the world! Gosh Kindaichi, you were supposed to be smarter than that! I remember all these times you were scolding me for being such a lousy spiker and receiver! That's not easy, _I know that_, but did you fucking think about how Kageyama would have felt if he knew how crappy you look and sound right now?!"

Kindaichi grits his teeth and shoves Hinata away, rage clouding his mind. He doesn't want to talk about it. And especially not from Hinata. He doesn't need anyone telling him what to do, because _how much do they know?_

"Shut up!" he yells. "He wasn't just a friend to me!"

Hinata resists the urge to launch himself at Kindaichi to beat him up. Instead, he spreads his arms and gestures to the entire park, to the wall, to the red signboard that is visible behind him.

"You think I don't know? Kageyama kept talking about you. He kept telling me that he was happy he could make it up to you and to actually understand you now. You should know that he's not a very friendly person, so do you know what it means that he talked about you? I'm not blind, Kindaichi."

Kindaichi wants Hinata to stop. He wants to drown all the memories and flashes that loom in his head, to drown the bitter and painful feeling that constrict his heart, to drown the aching sensation in his throat. He wants to scream. He wants to, but he can't because he's not allowed to, not as long as he can be seen by someone. What would that make him? Breaking down in front of _his_ best friend? Kindaichi doesn't know how he overcame the incident.

The red signboard is glowing anew.

He remembers Kageyama, all excited at the other side of the road, which was so unusual that made Kindaichi arch an eyebrow. He was wondering what could have fired him up like that, and when he saw him set a foot on the road at the same time as a car rushed to him, his worries transformed into fear and horror.

It wasn't night time, yet Kindaichi thought he saw the signboard flashing red in front of him. He stood still, his legs frozen but burning with terror, and he could only move when he noticed a crowd forming around Kageyama and the car—and behind the car there was another one, and it seemed like it was a car accident between the two?

He remembers blood and smoke, but mostly blood, covering Kageyama's body as they were waiting in dread the ambulances. He made his way through the crowd and crouched down, calling Kageyama over and over, holding his hand and throwing insults because there was no way in hell he wouldn't respond to them, right? Kageyama had tried to talk; his lips were slightly parted, his breath was coming in ragged blows, and his eyes were losing focus. Kageyama _never_ loses focus.

"_You goddamn King, answer me! I thought you wanted to show me something, you bastard?!"_

Kindaichi doesn't quite remember his words in such an insane state. He does remember however that all his attempts at keeping Kageyama awake failed miserably and suddenly people were snatching him away, putting him in the back of an ambulance and Kindaichi was thrashing.

The next thing he remembers is waking up one day in the hospital's corridor chair, and a doctor telling him that they couldn't do anything to save him.

Only because Kageyama happened to be in the way of a car accident. What would have happened if there wasn't this car crashing in the other? What would have happened if Kageyama wasn't so excited to meet him? What would have happened if he had decided to wait a bit longer, to make sure that there was no harm in any way?

Kindaichi lets himself collapse on the ground like a child.

Hinata doesn't say anything. He simply sits next to Kindaichi and listens silently to the sobs that fill the air, like a rhythm coming from the sky itself. He puts an arm around Kindaichi's shoulder and waits. He waits until he empties his heart, until he understands how much it hurts, how much he needs to get it out, how much he needs to let his body grieve. Hinata doesn't know if Kindaichi cried the first days, but even if he did, it didn't appease his mind at all. He himself had needed a big push from his friends to cry out like that, to express all his sorrow and to realize, finally, that Kageyama wasn't there anymore.

Sobs soon turn into loud cries and at this point Hinata thinks he can't hold it up anymore, as he feels tears welling up in the corner of his own eyes. Then they are both wailing, screaming from the bottom of their hearts and souls, as if they were conveying a message to the world, to let the world know about this painful anguish. An unfair anguish.

Long after, once they calmed their minds, they lean on the wall and stay quiet. Kindaichi wipes the remaining tears in his eyes while Hinata is rolling absentmindedly the volleyball on the ground.

"… Can I ask you how you felt about him?" Hinata inquires softly.

"You said you weren't blind, shrimp," Kindaichi replies.

"Yeah, but I want to hear those words coming from you."

Kindaichi buries his head into his arms, trying not to think about the turning point of their relationship. Not long before the fateful day, he had tried to kiss Kageyama. He almost got punched. But the next day, it was Kageyama who tried to initiate it.

Honestly, Kindaichi wonders if they should have said anything about it instead of putting the topic aside.

Hinata glances at him and pokes him lightly in the arm.

"I'm still waiting."

Kindaichi doesn't reply right away. He heaves a sigh.

"Okay, I liked him. I really liked him. Happy?"

He lifts his head and meets the grinning, but sad face of Hinata.

"He loved you too. That day he wanted to ask you out."

Kindaichi's cheeks redden and he can only nod. That explained the excited face… Stupid Kageyama.

It's getting cold so Kindaichi gets up and tells Hinata he is heading home. The shorter one nods and waves him goodbye, going to fetch his bike at the other side of the park. Before they part ways, Kindaichi rubs his neck and calls him out. Hinata looks curiously at him.

"… Thanks for today. In a way."

Hinata blinks, taken aback, but he smiles. His eyes are now sparkling with his usual fierceness and cheerfulness.

"Sure, no problem. See you again, turnip head!"

With that he sprints away, not seeing Kindaichi smile in return.

Kindaichi exits the park and stops at the signboard. For two years, he has waited at this same spot to meet the one person he cherished the most. He stares at the word 'metro', in capital letters, dwelling on the fact that this place is never going to change. He doesn't know if he can hold good memories whenever he passes by this station, but he will try. He will try to remember that this hasn't always been bad, that where he stands has also brought him a lot of happiness.

He looks at the volleyball in his hands, and then around him. The station is practically next to the park, so one of the trees hovers over the pavement. It might look stupid for other people, for people who didn't know him or Kageyama, but he doesn't care. He throws the ball in the air, takes his momentum, jumps, and swings his arm. He spikes the ball with all his might and he manages to get it stuck in the branches.

It's almost a service jump, but he's never mastered it so it looks like a poor imitation. Still he wanted to do it, and he succeeded in what he was aiming for. His lips stretch to a curve, and he walks away, heading home.

The last volleyball they shared will forever inhabit this place. Where it should be.

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><p>Don't kill me please I still want to write about them. :')<p>

Thank you for reading and feel free to drop by!


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